


As The Months Fly By

by CescaLR



Series: Fic Ideas/Prompts/Tumblr Stuffs/One-shots [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Post-Break Up, Stalia AU, season six au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 04:24:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13092336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CescaLR/pseuds/CescaLR
Summary: ‘We broke up, and after I’d already left and moved away, months later, I found out that you’d rushed to the airport to stop me but you were too late.’





	As The Months Fly By

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anon (Tumblr)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Anon+%28Tumblr%29).



> hmm, alright, here we go:

Malia hadn’t really had any reason to stay in Beacon Hills, all things considered. She’d lost her boyfriend, her mother had tried to kill her, her ex had been erased from reality - Malia hadn’t had any reason to stay. Sure, she’d had friends - friends who had decided her feelings for her ex didn’t exist, friends who had guilt tripped her into staying as long as she did - Malia had had to leave. Her life in Beacon Hills had never been a nice one even when she’d had the memories of her ex - and, once she got them back, that’s what he was. Her ex. Someone who… just, well, didn’t love her any longer.

Or did he? Malia didn’t spend her time thinking about those sorts of things - they hurt too much. And besides, as far as Malia knows, Lydia had resolved to start something with him anyway, and - it hurt, sure, but Malia…

He’d told Lydia he’d loved her. That was enough for Malia.

So yes. Malia booked tickets. She’s been in France for a few months now and it’s - nice. The younger drinking age is a bonus, and even if she’s not very good at French the language is nice enough on her ears. The boys are cute enough, even if a few look down on her for not speaking French which she gets; she’s in France, after all. Anyway, Malia’s staying with Isaac, who lives in a three-bed apartment near where Chris Argent lives with all his Argent buddies. 

Isaac isn’t around much, really, so Malia hasn’t gotten to know him very well. She’s kind of glad, in a way, because he vaguely reminds her of Stiles. And that… actually hurts, a little. The vagueness. 

Regardless, Malia’s free to do what she wants. Which is cool, and all, but she’s only free for the rest of the year. Come twenty-fifteen, Malia will no longer be free. Which, ugh, but - that’s fine. A year out of education isn’t a bad thing; Malia had nine and she’s done pretty well for herself, all things considered.

It’s not like Malia doesn’t miss Beacon Hills in a weird kind of way, though. Not that she isn’t glad to be out of that hell hole, it’s just that - well, it was familiar. She had friends there, she’d had a home, her dad - not, vehemently not Peter - and it had been - safe. At least emotionally.

Here - it’s so different. Small. Beacon Hills was small enough, sure, but that’s by the standards of a country way, way bigger than France. Malia feels like she could run across the entirety of the width of France and still be back by dinner, and that’s - Stifling, in a way. 

So sue her. She’s feeling nostalgic. It’s been - months, sure, and Malia… well. Call her curious.

Malia opens her laptop and goes with a safe option. She calls up her dad, first - on her phone, actually, not her laptop; that’s for later - and sees what he’s got going on. She tries her best to be discrete about it, and Henry seems to be unaware of her gentle probing for info.

He’s fine; his job is going okay, now that he’s drinking less, and - so far as he tells her - nobodies been around to see if she’s spoken to him recently.

Malia wonders if they did that at all. Or if they just… let her go.

“Bye dad.” She says, at the end of the conversation, and hangs up. 

Malia opens skype, hesitates her cursor over a few names. Malia doesn’t know if Stiles took his laptop to wherever he ended up, so Malia doesn’t call him.

That’s her excuse, anyway. She still has his phone number.

Malia calls up - Liam, because he isn’t Scott and he isn’t Lydia and the call rings out for a few then:

“Malia?” Liam asks, surprised. Malia still isn’t happy with him for bringing back Theo, but she doesn’t really have any other less painful options, due to Kira no longer being around. 

“Yeah.” She says. “Been a while.”

“No kidding,” Liam frowns at her. “Scott’s been worried. We all have.”

Malia keeps her face carefully blank, and shrugs. “I arrived safe,” She says, dry, and adds, “I thought that was - was all that was needed.”

Liam - keeps frowning, but it softens. Malia doesn’t really know what to say - it’s only been a few months, but it feels like so much longer. 

(Malia travels France as a coyote, now that she can. Perhaps it’s due to that? After all, once Malia had turned back to human that first time, days felt like forever compared to what she was used to. Maybe it’s a similar thing.)

Liam looks her over. “Just… call more often, okay?”

Malia nods, swallows. She cancels the call.

* * *

Two days later, Malia calls Scott. 

“Hi.” She says. Malia’s using her phone because she doesn’t think she could stand to see his face right now. “Were you ever planning on revising your ‘had a connection like you guys’ to Lydia or what?”

She’s drunk. It’s three am, here in France. Malia has no idea what time it is back in America. 

There’s a pause. “… You’re drunk, Malia.” Scott says, oh-so-soft, and Malia glowers at the ceiling. 

Malia doesn’t respond to that. Silence, for a moment. Then - 

“… I was wrong.” Scott says. Contrite. “The memories hadn’t come back yet fully - I… I was wrong.”

Malia feels - vindicated. But it hurts. She cancels the call.

* * *

Four days later, Malia calls Lydia.

“Fuck you,” she says. “And I’m sorry for bailing.” 

Malia had heard about the fear guy, the hunters. Malia is sorry, but it’s over now, and there’s nothing she can do about what has happened in the past.

She would if she could. But she can’t.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you,” Lydia apologizes, genuinely.

Malia’s lips twist. That wasn’t what she’d swore for, but she’ll let Lydia think it was. Lydia was sorry, after all. And Malia has gotten better at forgiveness because Malia wants to be nothing like her biological father.

It’s been months. Malia should be over this by now. It’s not even a betrayal - Malia wasn’t dating him. He was just -

It’s nothing. It can be nothing _but_ nothing, so Malia pushes aside those thoughts.

There’s a pause, and then:

“… I thought you should know,” Lydia says, “that-”

Malia hangs up.

* * *

“You should really pick that up.” 

Isaac is at the apartment, for once, and it just has to be when Malia gets another call. It’s been a few weeks since she called Lydia, and Malia doesn’t want to hear any of what she has to say. It’s petty, Malia knows - but Malia has already said her part. 

_Fuck you. And I’m sorry._

Malia groans and closes her laptop; resigned. “You’re right,” She says, sighing. 

“Always am,” He says, then leaves, and she grumbles before grabbing the phone and hitting accept.

“What?” She demands.

“I was never dating Stiles and I’m sorry if we made it seem that way,” Lydia rushes out, “And when I kissed him, he didn’t kiss me back.”

Malia - paused before hitting the end call button. Lydia takes this as permission to continue. 

“Remember when I sensed he was in danger and ran off?” Lydia asks but doesn’t give Malia time to respond or end the call. “I saved him from being shot by one of the Riders, and then from being choked to death by his fake mom - along with Noah; he shot her, I screamed -  but, before we got accosted by her after I’d saved Stiles, I kissed him. It - it was kind of awkward. I squished his nose, and he just sort of stood there. So - I figured that I’d read things wrong; turns out I did. Stiles told me he loved me, Malia - I took that to mean he was  _in love_ with me. There’s - there’s a difference.”

Malia swallows, and Lydia seems to take a second before continuing.

“He’d have said the same to Scott or his Dad or - whoever he cared about to that extent that was in the car with him,” Lydia says, and Malia takes this in. “I don’t know what he would have said to you, but - I thought you should know.”

“What took you so long to tell me?” Malia asks and regrets it. The hunters, of course. The fear guy.

“Things went to hell really fast.” Lydia sighs. “I just.. forgot.”

Malia nods. 

“… I’m sorry.” Lydia says. Malia ends the call, but texts her - 

_Thanks._

_Smart people make mistakes._

Malia - smiles, slightly, at the usage of that. It - hurts, though. 

_I know you might not want to but - talk to Stiles. Please._

Malia doesn’t owe anyone anything. But she is owed an explanation. 

* * *

Another week passes, and Malia finally stops avoiding the last person she needs to contact. 

Malia hesitates - she can’t call him, can’t video chat; they’d both be a disaster.

Malia opens her laptop and deliberates over what to say.

_It’s been a while, I guess. It’s been… long enough._

_You up to talking?_

_\- Mal_

Malia hesitates.

_\- Malia_

Malia sends the message, the email, and waits. 

* * *

_Sorry that it took so long to reply. It’s been a little hectic, catching up with what I missed when I left college to help out Scott and the others - the hunters and then Scott getting his eyes clawed out and having to talk him into healing, it was a mess - so I didn’t see this for ages._

_Kinda feels like a theme, huh? Nevermind, you won’t get that._

_Anyway… yeah. It’s been - long enough._

_I’d be good with talking, if you want, still._

_\- Are we using full names now? Because I can’t spell mine. Anyway; Stiles._

* * *

Malia is distracted for another month with helping out Isaac and Argent purge the Argent Hunters of any actual psychos, so she doesn’t see the email she got in response until the snow started falling. 

Malia grimaces and wraps her coat tighter. She’ll be back at the apartment in a few seconds, and so she doesn’t need to worry so much about the cold.

Malia gets into the apartment at a quarter to one on Friday morning. It’s been weeks since she was last here, but her laptop had been dead and she’d only had enough time to put it on charge before needing to leave again. 

Now, she gets inside, drops her coat, kicks off her shoes and grabs her laptop. Malia drops onto the couch and logs on - she'd probably just watch some youtube for a bit before nodding off -

Malia pauses - stops in her tracks. She’s got an email. 

Malia’s suddenly hit with actual _fear_ and a fair bit of worry. Fear that it isn’t him, worry that it is.

Malia clicks on the email, and reads it.

* * *

Stiles hasn’t had the best few months, all things considered. He’s out for the winter, though, so he’s on his way back down to Beacon - Stiles met up with Scott on the way, and they’ve stopped at a motel.

“I hate these,” Stiles grumbles, strides on into their room and drops his bag onto the right-most bed. “This one’s mine,” He says, and Scott nods, sighs. 

“Me too,” He mutters, drops his bag onto the other bed, gets out some travel soap and whatever and goes into the bathroom.

Stiles gets out his laptop. He’s gained the habit of checking his emails every week at least once, and that’s due.

Stiles pauses, sees the email. It’s from yesterday. Stiles reads it, closes his eyes, and gets out his phone.

* * *

_Yeah. I’d like that._

_\- For now. Malia._

* * *

“Nobody stopped me,” Malia admits. There’s no greater way to get her to leave than to have nobody say she shouldn’t. 

“…I - yeah.” Stiles lets out. “Yeah. Nobody stopped you in time.”

It’s a few days later. They’re both a little drunk, which probably isn’t the best idea but - 

Well. Neither of them really want to have this conversation.

“Nobody stopped you,” Stiles repeats. His words ring hollow, and Malia frowns. 

“Well yeah,” Malia said. “Nobody came to see me off, either.”

“I tried,” Stiles says, suddenly, and Malia nearly drops the phone. “I - “

Stiles stops. Malia sits up, slowly, reaches for her laptop. 

“I wanna talk on skype.” She says, abrupt. “… Face to face.”

Malia can almost see his nod - jerky and uncertain. She hears him rub his hand down his face before saying, “Yeah, okay.” And cutting the call. 

Malia opens up Skype and hesitates. Stiles calls first - she waits for a beat before answering.

… He still looks like Stiles. It’s easy to see in his face; his features - but then, Stiles has always had a recognisable face. It’s the little differences -  longer hair, no longer gelled.He’s no longer clean-shaven, either. Malia thinks he’s still in his uniform because he’s in a slightly rumpled white shirt, but he must have gotten uncomfortable because he’s loosened the tie and unbuttoned the top button. 

He looks like an  _adult._ Malia’s suddenly terrifed of the fact that she’s no longer a teenager. 

“I havent had a chance to shave,” Stiles says. “You look - good.”

Malia’s in an old T-Shirt and some shorts. She’s not even sure if the T-shirt is hers, because it’s a little too big - big enough to fall off her should and need a camisole underneath. Due to the weather, she’s wearing leggings and a hoodie - Malia belatedly realises it was the one she’d never given back to him because Stiles -

“You too.” Malia manages. “You look good.”

There’s an awkward pause. Malia thinks this is worse than whatever he’d said before. Malia brings up that again, because she’d rather that than this silence. 

“Yeah.” Stiles scratches the back of his neck, awkward and contrite. “I came to - I don’t know. Convince you to stay, see you off.”

He pauses. 

“Be there for you, I guess. Maybe - “

Stiles hesitated. Malia simply stared, and he looked away.

“Maybe see if you remembered. I - I didn’t want to be selfish but I didn’t want you to leave hating me.”

Malia continues staring, and Stiles seems to flounder for something to say.

“Did you love me?” Malia asks. “Like you loved Lydia?”

_There’s a difference between loving someone, and being in love with them._

”Not the same way I loved Lydia.” He said. “Not the same way I love Scott or my Dad.”

Malia nods. It’s… progress. She smiles slightly at the thought, and Stiles seems to take that as her smiling at him, and she’’l let him, because, in a way, that kind of was Malia smiling at him. 

Her memories of him. That she now has. 

Malia paused.

“… you wanted to see if I rememberd what the others didn’t, didn’t you?”

Stiles stops. 

“So you did?” Stiles says. “You remembered that we-”

“Were together.” Malia finishes. “Yeah, I remember.”

“We broke up.” Stiles says. “I think.”

“Yeah, nobody was really sure about that.” Malia says. “Even us.”

Stiles glances to the side, before looking back to Malia. “I’m sorry.”

“Smart people make mistakes.” Malia says.

“Not just because they think it’s right,” Stiles says. “Sometimes they’re just mistakes.”

Malia nods. Maybe, she thinks, they’ll get through this. 

“I think - “ Stiles pauses. “Theo would really hate it if you came back, and also I don’t want to have to get him a good present, so, how about you visit? For a week or so, around christmas?”

Malia laughs, slightly. “Yeah,” She says. “Yeah, okay.”

Stiles nods. “I’ll meet you there.” He says.

“You better.” Malia nods. She cuts the call, leans back -

Smiles. It’ll be good to go home for the holiday season. And maybe - just maybe - they can fix things. Malia is… hopeful.

It’s a nice feeling.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt; had a choice of two. Chose this one.


End file.
